Master, Passion, Greed
by Nyhratak
Summary: The mystery is not what is hidden behind the mask - they know that the cybernetic creature was once mortal, for how could such sadistic and tortured eyes be produced by way of a machine? They know not that the devil's eyes are the progeny of gods, the windows to a past that the owner has hidden deep within his mind. AN ORIGIN. Dark & Angsty. A bit AU. "Dreamer's Oath" compliant.
1. The Hunter

**The fondest of greetings to you all! To summarize, this is a **_**thoroughly revised **_**version of a much longer, yet low quality work I composed many, many years ago when I had not yet even reached my teenage years. I just couldn't let it rot away without doing a rewrite, so here it is!**

**In here you will see established cannon characters, as well as a slew of OC's that I created for "Dreamer's Oath", my other, longer cyborg-Grievous fic. In case you don't know anything about our dear tyrant's backstory, I **_**strongly**_** suggest you read up on it, lest you be confused or anything. I intend for this to be somewhat to very AU, following the same **_**roundabout**_** plotline as the official stuff, but still my own dark twists and so on. THE CHAPTERS ARE INTENDED TO BE SHORT! Just a little fyi for ya :) So without further or do...my newest piece.**

**Chapter 1 - The Hunter**

Crouched, silent, the hunter waited, eyes narrowed, breaths quieted and even. The animal in the clearing was unaware of its noiseless watcher, and was upwind - an easy kill. Animals of all sorts were, in a word, foolish. The hunter's hand curled firmly around the large spear in their possession, readying itself for a strike.

A moment later, out from the trees came a male humanoid, built of muscle, sheathed in bronze, scaly skin. The animal stood no chance, soon after lying dead at the hunter's feet with a spear embedded through its side, the precision of the hit unmistakably perceptible. Its killer removed the weapon from its deceased body, triumphant. It was then that a second male of the same race emerged from the undergrowth, going to the hunter. He was visibly older, and more orderly as opposed to the wild one before him.

"You have done well, young one. Your skills serve our people well..."

He nodded. "Anything to provide for the hungry, sir."

A hand was placed on his arm. "Soon, everyone will come to call you a god."

"I am only a man. I am unworthy of such...formalities." The hunter stared at the other man with intent. "And I wish for it to stay this way, General Dau-Maz."

The military leader, Dau-Maz, removed his hand. "Your father was a illustrious commander. He would want you to be great. He would pray to our holy deities every sunrise and sunset to grant his lastborn son a rise to power. Why have you no wishes for this?"

Freed of the contact holding him back, he wrapped his arms around the carcass and lifted it upon one, broad shoulder. "My father," he began, "would want me to follow my convictions, and..." He shifted under the sudden weight. "...that is what I shall do."

As he took his spear in hand, steadying the animal's body with the other, Dau-Maz looked at him long and hard, disapproval in his gaze. "This will change, young Sheelal, as all things do."

Qymaen jai Sheelal exhaled disdainfully. "You are not one to say what will and will not be, General." He went to take his leave, but added for good measure, "And neither am I."

**Just to note: all this is before he becomes famous and all that jazz. Reviews are most welcome! I shall update if such happens! Thanks for reading! **


	2. Friends of the Precarious Sort

**No reviews? Come now, lemme feel the love! 'Tis okay, I just put it up last night after all. I just changed the title haha, after listening to the song by Nightwish of the same title and being very inspired by the sheer epicness. Plus it just...fits. I'm excited because, in here I introduce another OC from "DO", and he certainly is a favorite. Anyway, here's chapter two, I hope you enjoy and review!**

**Chapter 2 - Friends of the Precarious Sort**

The inhabitants of the small, squalid village were overjoyed at the gift Qymaen brought for them. Their emaciated bodies seldom received proper nourishment, for the strong men of the group had long since died, leaving behind wives, children and elders who knew not the ways of the hunt. They survived solely off of various roots and other vegetation, far from their natural diet. On the animal they gorged themselves, and their provider stole away, a sense of satisfaction filling him. The gratified faces of the starving children had brought him happiness; his father would surely be proud.

At this, he murmured a prayer to his passed sire, wishing for him eternal peace and freedom in the heavens. His death had been tragic, and the strong bond that had formed after the murder of his mother was severed, leaving a son, only just into adolescence, to defend for himself amidst a cruel, uncaring world of war. Qymaen remembered it well, the man's dying wishes for his youngest child: to raise a family like his brothers, and to act upon his conscience. There had yet to be offspring from him, as well as spouses.

Hours passed as he tread down the worn hunting trail, arriving at last to the entrenched settlement he called his home village. People knew him well - his father's reputation was not one to be forgotten, and Qymaen and his siblings were caught in the immense shadow left by its grandeur. Naturally then, he was known by most, yet few ever spoke to him. The pressures of an aristocratic life were not upon him, except in those rare circumstances when individuals came around to remind him that he was prime material for a mate. He so despised those...complications.

All the poor females he had denied were informed of the same, sad fact: he was not interested in having a family. Not in the present time anyway. He was simply a man who wanted to make a difference without causing a scene, not the sort of person who was quick to bed any woman that asked for it.

"Hey - you're back!"

And if there was one person who always did just that, it was N'jaere viir Rahkah.

He ran to Qymaen, and threw his arms around him. His embrace was returned instantaneously. Rahkah was like an older brother - a good many years older in fact, but the mutual warm feelings were present all the same.

"Yes, I am," replied Qymaen, a smile crossing his face, "I helped them, N'jaere - I found food for them to eat, the poor village to the north."

Rahkah released him, his mannerisms laughably derisive, as was customary. "Who are you all of the sudden, a _Jedi_ or somethin'?" His knowledge and speech were attributed to the vast amounts of time he spent with offworlders, leaving him with incurable, sometimes dissolute habits. "What are you going to do next, brother? Leave the planet and go over to the Huk worlds for bloody _fruit_?"

It was all out of good fun, Qymaen reminded himself, that Rahkah did what he did, but nothing was ever taken seriously enough with the other man. For that time, he chuckled and hid the fact that it bothered him behind one of his many guises.

Rahkah would come to understand that in due time...


	3. Night Raid

**Why hello! Thanks to all those who read and liked, and special thanks to HallovveenGirl. Welcome back! Glad to make you...well, glad :)**

**Not much to say, accept that I didn't put a disclaimer in the first chapter, so here:**

**Disclaimer - I don't own anything accept for my OCs and other original content. All the credit for the other characters in this story belongs to their rightful creators.**

**There, now enjoy and leave some feedback for me. Reviews are the figurative Advil to my headache XD**

**Chapter 3 - Night Raid**

Silent sleep was interrupted all too suddenly, the disturbing noises of chaos and confusion reaching the Kaleesh ears. His eyes opened, and he rose in one smooth motion. Insectile screeching, gunfire, and loud yells of indecipherable words lay beyond the door of his meager home, and the picture to accompany those sounds was more discomfiting still.

The settlement burned, smoke and fire surrounded by a sea of living things fleeing for their very lives, or striving to take just that.

Qymaen took his cloak in hand, three it over his back and subsequently reached for a dagger - his predecessors'- he had mounted on the wall. With these two objects on his person, he set out into the smoke-filled night at a run. The military base, at the center of the village, was his destination, where he knew he could find Rahkah, a general among four others: Voaga Dau-Maz, Csilvitor T'lit'co, Fiatahh Aavok, and Arad Karivasi. They were the legends that the young ones heard about in tales of valiance when they were growing up. The older two, Dau-Maz and T'lit'co, had also been friends of his father a very long time ago.

It soon became more obvious than it had already been that the violence had been brought about by the Huk. The Yam'rii. The race that inhabited three of the four worlds in the system, excluding Kalee. They were barbaric and greedy, killing and enslaving without a second thought, for they wanted the planet that was not theirs, and would never stop unless divine intervention was to happen. In addition to being entirely unsympathetic, they were hard to kill, covered in a thick, outer shell tougher than Rancor hide and resistant to most long range shots. Their heads were their only vulnerable part, as well as their undersides.

How did he know?

He had killed many of them before with only a dull hunting knife and god-given strength. They had swarmed the very same village that he had given food to just days earlier with the intention of taking all the males captive. The men would not stop fighting, and were slain after a long while of attempting to fight them off. It was a massacre on both sides that could not be stopped. Qymaen had only been seventeen standard years old at the time, early for even most enlisters in the army. That had been close to eight years ago, whenever he stopped to think. He felt quite weathered at twenty-four, though it was all most likely an ill product of his imagination.

Every which way he looked, there was something happening, no peace to be sought out anywhere. He kept to the shadows the night and fire created, ready to defend himself, but keeping himself in an unassuming position. He caught his first real look in many moons at the enemy when the military base was in sight. The creature, larger than its puny followers, walked upon two legs like any other sort of bipedal being, but looked so very out of place, disturbing even. Its long arms were held out in front of it, balancing its large, unproportioned body, while the little ones behind it stayed lower to the ground, crawling along on four legs, like the insects they were.

He wanted to kill them, badly even. He wanted to feel the blade of the dagger imbed itself within their scrawny necks, and experience the satisfaction of seeing the body drop to the ground, twitching.

It was not the time for games, however.

He had to find the commanders.

Qymaen watched the enemy pass, and stealthily started for the large gates before there was an attack on his destination. The watchmen saw him, and was quick to demand, "What is your business here? Why are you not aiding the injured and saving the imprisoned?"

"That is none of your concern. I must speak to the Generals, _now_. It is imperative."

A small door was opened for him without any further questioning on the matter. His social status was to thank for that.

He found the four of them within the innermost structure, seated around a large table. Rahkah's gaze was drawn to him as soon as he stepped foot within the room.

"What is it, young Sheelal?" Dau-Maz, at the head of the table, inquired.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Qymaen asked with haste.

"Yes..."

He took a breath. "This place is _lost_. You should be out there staging an evacuation, not sitting in there pretending that this is not happening, because it most certainly is."

Aavok, discourteous as always, cut in. "Who placed you in a position to be telling us what we can and cannot do? The forces protecting this town have been given the authorization to fight off the invaders, so I believe that you should go...do something constructive to help."

"The "forces" are too small; our peoples' homes are burning. You expect me to sit by, you who called yourselves allies of my father, and watch everything sink into hell around us? Why have _you_ not done anything to help?"

Dau-Maz raised his arms in submission. "I know you are not one of us, I shall not state that again, for you know as well as I, but I believe there comes a time when one must become aware of the goings on."

"I am more than aware of - "

"No. No you are not."

Karivasi, swift with words but kind at heart, pointed out quietly, "Voaga...you should tell him. He should know."

"No! Why? Why should _he_, one who has _blatantly stated_ that he wishes to stay out of military affairs, be told things that we have only just discovered?" Aavok snapped, slamming his fist down on the table.

A silence followed, and Qymaen lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I'm with Karivasi, gentlemen." Rahkah said suddenly. "He should know."

Dau-Maz nodded, and looked back to the young man. "Sheelal, there is a greater problem here than meets the eye. We cannot interfere. They have taken prisoners...Csilvitor's family, and have assured us that they will meet a painful end if we hinder them."

**Yayyyy, chapter 3 is done! Just for you to note: the mental picture I have of the Kaleesh people is very different then what the official stuff shows them to be. The way I see them, they basically look like humans, but with the large ears, reptile skin, cat eyes, and slightly Voldemort-looking noses ^_^**

**Yes, so, don't let their appearances deter you if it has in the past. Thank you and good day.**


	4. Resolution

**Heeeeey! I'm back, and apologize for the long while it took to update this. I am on vacation, you see, and typing this in the back of our motor home. Might I give a shout out to my loyal reviewer, who has come back for this one! I feel like I am being united with an old friend (wipes away tear). To answer a question: no, this is not in any way a sequel to "DO", and is meant to be a completely different side project.**

**Anyway, off we go! **

**Chapter 4 - Resolution**

Another silence, longer and more profound than the first followed the revelation for Qymaen, and he looked to T'lit'co with sympathy. "General...I am so sorry, but may I be so bold as to ask, why have you not taken action? Have there been no rescue attempts?"

T'lit'co's weathered face showed his desolation. "No, son, there have not, it would be suicide to send troops onto the planet at this time. I would go myself, but seeing as there have already been substantial threats to their wellbeing, I simply cannot."

The other generals around indicated their silent agreement.

"I see..." mused the civilian, contemplating the circle of faces before him. He then motioned to Rahkah, gesturing to the door without words.

Rahkah received the message. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I must speak to him alone for a moment."

No one seemed to mind, either that or they were too immersed in the solemn atmosphere the resurfacing of their brother's predicament had brought about. Rahkah followed Qymaen out the open doorway, into a disconnected room, where the stood facing each other.

"I do not understand..." the younger man said in a low voice, keeping the impending exchange quiet, "If this continues they can do nothing for our people. It is already obvious that this settlement in which we make our homes has met its ruin, and when the enemy is done, they will only move on to another, less fortified village."

Rahkah looked away, shame evident. He let the mass of dreadlocks atop his head fall in his face, hiding what he felt. "I know this to be true, my friend, but I, myself can't _act_ upon it. We've been put into a dangerous spot, here. Csilvitor can't lose his family, not after all he's done for the cause. Who am I to argue with grounds like that?"

It was true, what he said. The great generals' families were symbols of their accomplishments; their ranks. One's family was one's life. Those who were loners were looked down upon with great scorn, shunned even. The only individuals who were free from this harsh fact of life were those on the high ladder of the social hierarchy, those like Qymaen, whose father's family had been, in a word, _extensive_. The ties that bonded the Kaleesh people were strong, but noble blood was hard to come by, considering that over half of the populace on the planet consisted of impoverished, ravenous nomads who scrounged for food through the deep, dark jungles. The lucky ones lived in their wealth, surrounded by the highest pinnacle of comfort attainable, and the satisfaction of being held above the rest. Family heritage and legacy were everything to a Kaleesh.

"I understand this." Qymaen acknowledged, "Though I think you, as distinguished generals, can _afford_, to do better."

It was then that Rahkah clenched his fists at his sides and leaned forward contemptuously. "What more do you want of us, _kid_?" He spat. "Hm? What more do you think that we can do in this situation?" His one hand raised to point accusingly. "If it bothers you so much, _you do somethin' about it_!"

Scowling, Qymaen took a deep breath through his teeth, eyes alight, and growled slowly and consciously, "I will."

He did not go back into the room with the others, instead going out the door without looking back, irate. Rahkah followed him to the doorway, pausing there. From his place he shouted after, "_Where_ are you _goin_'?"

Without stopping, he replied loudly, "I am going to kill some of the invaders. Tell your other _generals_ that after I am through, I will go for T'lit'co's family."

Rahkah watched him disappear into the night with a newfound opinion on him.

_He might just make something good yet..._

**Reviews are most welcome!**

**A note for my most recent reviewer: your PM is disabled again so I can't reply to your reviews! Can you enable it, please? Thanks!**


	5. Awaken Fate

**Another update here for you, and I'm still on vacation! Ahhhh the beach is so lovely for inspiration for this particular subject says I! I have a few more days here, so I hope to glean some more muse from it in the meantime.**

**I shall now beg your indulgence on the matter, for this has now begun to venture into the "AU" territory, and will have a few things that go against the 'official' storyline and go along with some of my own original ideas. Thank your for your compliance. **

**Thanks to my reviewer :)**

**Chapter 5 - Awaken Fate**

By the time the settlement was free of the barbaric adversaries, it was clear that there would be _significant_ sustaining damage. Homes were obliterated, families broken and the overall atmosphere was depressingly dismal. Repairs would take a lifetime with the lack of wealth on Kalee. Perhaps all would be made even the slightest bit better when the generals were able to aid their people. Until then, however, things were not going to be well for the people of the large village at all, that much was for certain.

As many times as he endeavored to look for the bright side of the situation, such was unattainable for Qymaen, who prepared himself for a journey offworld that would mark the first of his short life. What seemed insane to some, a prosperous young man who had everything to lose and nothing to gain leaving the safety - or current lack thereof - of his home to go rescue afriend of his father's extensive family, made all the sense in the world to him. With his success - he was keeping his optimism high - would come the much needed assistance of the military commanders, and thus the war plans that they undoubtedly had could go on as planned.

He had been briefed on the rumored whereabouts of the captives. Spies, rare though they were, had informed the high powers that General T'lit'co's family was being held in an unpretentious prison, out of the way and hidden deep within the jungles of the rain forest world of Abbaji, that which the system got its name from. Many routes had been discussed on how Qymaen was to arrive at the supposed destination, and equally as many had been dropped due to their mere implausibility. It was to be a difficult mission, this he had been reminded of time and time again, and when the decision had finally been made on the best way to go about it, he found himself deeply uneasy.

A large ship capable of holding all the captured beings and five highly trained soldiers, guards of Arad Karivasi, had all been provided, as well as the weapons that came with the men. One more man, separate from the other five, an expert pilot, would be in charge of getting all of them there safely. Qymaen was assured that he was one of the best lower-ranking ones out there. This made him feel a bit better.

The four generals stood out near the landing platform to bid him farewell when the time came. It was a misty day, no sun, and no wind whatsoever. The world around seemed...haunting. They all gave him their best, and just before he was about to board the ship, Rahkah approached and firmly grasped his hand.

"You're gonna do great, kid. You're gonna free them, and when you come back with T'lit'co's family, I'm personally gonna make you great. Count on it."

On any other day, Qymaen would have naturally declined the offer, but in that moment, he could say nothing in return, simply producing a stiff nod of the head.

Then he was off for places unknown.

...

The flight there would have been fascinating to one who had never seen the stars or his own homeworld from so far out in the sea of blackness that was space, but the young man's mind was not on frivolities, nor would he let it stray there. He kept his thoughts on the task ahead, ambitious to the very end. The men around him were tranquil, clearly used to visiting enemy worlds on a daily basis, and occupied themselves with trivial things such as watching the stars and studying their weapons intently. Qymaen was relieved when they touched down onto the surface of the planet without difficulty, the technology of the native Yam'rii null and void when it came to identification - he had heard of such practices out in other foreign systems.

The ship itself, thanks the gods, had scanners, detecting life forms below before the landing was commenced, and they have proved negative, for the time being at least. One could never be sure with the opposing race, whether they would arrive in swarms or stay within their protected territories. Preparation was key.

Six of the ships occupants made their way out cautiously, testing the ground before them tentatively with each step, listening intently with finely tuned ears. The pilot stayed behind with the ship, in charge of taking off if the enemy found out about them. It was all taken care of, and those on the planet would be rescued shortly if that was to occur. At last, one of the soldiers moved toward Qymaen, reverent it seemed.

"Sir," he said, and Qymaen found that he rather liked being addressed formally, "there seems to be no hostiles in this area, shall we continue on as planned?"

"Yes." The reply was immediate. "Lead me to the prison, if you will."

He considered the fact that he was being too unsure about his temporary position, but if he was telling the soldiers what to do, he supposed he was doing satisfactorily enough for the time being. He promised himself from then on out he would try his hardest to be a good leader, making an admirable effort to hide his fear. If he wanted to make a difference, he would have to put in the work to do so.

The jungle they walked through, slowly to avoid any traps, was much like Kalee, but the otherworldly feel it had was unmistakable, the foliage around them quite different and the light less visible. It was the perfect place for the insects to live, but not nearly bright enough for the Kaleesh people.

"We should be nearing the specified location now, sir. Might I remind you that we have one of the enemies on the inside, through which we were able to gain insight about the General's family from. I encourage you to not be alarmed when we come upon it."

"Yes, I was told that, carry on then."

The alleged "prison" was no more than a small, crude looking structure in the middle of the jungle, not in the least what such a place should have looked like. It was only after a few moments of wondering about this that it was brought to his attention that the actual place where the occupants were held was underground, hidden from the eyes of those who walked above.

The spy, a scrawny Yam'rii who was skittish at the sight of the approaching rescue party, quickly told them in broken Kaleesh that it would take them down under the building to find who they searched for, but time was of the essence. The usual guards had been 'delayed' in arriving at their posts, the work of another couple of traitors, who were few and far between, but could still be found.

Inside the small building it was dark, and humid, the scent of the rotting wood at the upper level like an unwelcome guest. But that was nothing compared to what awaited once the underground chamber was unlocked. There was an undeniable feeling about the place that proved to be one of the most unpleasant things that Qymaen had ever experienced. Death surrounded the cell-filled hallways, lit only by an occasional torch that created ominous shadows in every direction. He wanted nothing more than to leave, but nonetheless followed the enemy turncoat, determined to return victorious.

Then, as if by magic, there they all were. Every single one of them, stretched out across an expanse of cells, the utmost farthest away from the old stairwell leading to the surface. There were children that were separated from their mother, once sobbing in corners and trying in vain to sleep, some now up and alert, hopeful, others apparently dead. It affected Qymaen even more than seeing the starving children at the village he had saved, for these people were abused, bleeding and neglected; his heart went out to them.

The soldiers with him looked at him to speak to the captives, or give orders.

"I am Qymaen jai Sheelal, son of the deceased Zalajjh jai Sheelal, and I am here on behalf of your husband and father, as well as the rest of the commanders, to liberate you." He did not delay, and said to the men, "Set them free."

As the doors were forcefully unlocked, and the mothers ushered their children to them, he went on to say loudly above the noise, "I want each soldier to take a group of them and leave for the ship! You all must hurry we do not have much time!" He grabbed the closest soldier to him and stated, "You are staying with me for now. We will make sure that no one is left behind."

When the last of the freed were gone with their assigned guide, Qymaen and the remaining guard of T'lit'co walked slowly down the hall, looking carefully in every holding cell. Every body was gone, even the dead young ones. As he arrived silently at the end, he saw that one cell had been overlooked, having only one occupant, a Kaleesh, who by the looks of it, was dangerous.

It was a female, a fact which was accentuated by the significantly little amount of clothing that her captors had left to her. She had chains on both wrists, keeping her arms ever elevated due to their attachment to the walls on either side. There were also chains on her ankles, leading down into the floor. Even if she was as violent as her confinement made it appear, she was going nowhere. Qymaen took an instant to let his eyes flick shamelessly over her person, taking in the wild mass of hair on her head that could easily compete with Rahkah, the scars all over her body, and the clearly superior shape such was in.

"Open this door." He commanded the man with him, all the time wondering: _How could they have missed her_?

The lock was broken with one well-timed hit of the sword the soldier carried, and Qymaen walked inside.

The woman did not move, seeming to not even possess the strength to lift her head. He kept his distance, but still made himself close enough to allow his voice to be heard just above a whisper. "Are you one of T'lit'co's?" asked Qymaen, temperate.

No answer.

He gave it another go. "Wife? Family? Concubine?"

That was when she lashed out at him, eyes burning with a fire so wild that it was as if all hell resided behind them. Try as she might, she could not get to him, held back by the shackles, but hissed out animalistically, "I have no family. I belong to no one...especially the likes of _your kind_!"

"Kind? But you are of our race...you are like us."

The man outside the cell spoke hastily, "We have no time for this, sir. We must go now!"

She laughed a harsh, grating laugh, ignoring the previous comment. "I am far from it, you who had never stepped foot off the mainland..."

Qymaen understood then. She was of the people from the islands out over the great sea, a people who tore themselves away from societies laws and customs, their own form of religion vastly differing from the said "mainland" folk.

Nodding at her still scowling face, he told the man behind him without turning. "Free her too. If she is one of _them_ she will find her own way home."

T'lit'co's trained guard cut the chains and she took one purposeful step forward, rolling her neck. Her predatory gaze swept over them, landing secondly on Qymaen. Their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds, a deadly smirk playing across her mouth.

"This means I must repay you someday - you saved me from a slow and painful death." She eyed the soldier, not taking her stare off his face as she reached out and leisurely took his flask of water. "You have my thanks...both of you."

And then she was gone like a ghost, vanishing around the nearest corner in the blink of an eye.

They did not see her again on their way out, as was expected.

**Geeeeez...that was longer than I anticipated. Oh well! Review please! I have many ideas for this (evil laugh) and will try and get more out to you soon!**

**Apologies to my one reviewer for the lack of violence in this chapter haha. It will be around soon enough though, don't you worry none! **


	6. A Hero?

**Dude. I was away. Don't kill me pwease! I went to Creation again this year...and it was hot...in more ways than one. No seriously. John L. Cooper. That's all I have to say ^_^ Look him up! **

**On with business then. I was originally going to type this when I got back from vacation, which was great, but I spent my time sleeping and whatnot when I got back, so I'm typing it now, and I will have the rest of the summer to myself as it looks from this point. Onwards then!**

**Chapter 6 - A Hero?**

The return excursion was smooth, considering that many of the women aboard the ship were in various states of shock of mourning for their dead children, cradled in their frail arms. It was likewise for the young ones who had lost their mothers, unable to be comforted, incapable of any interaction with their other half-siblings. Qymaen scrutinized the scene carefully from the place where he was seated, feeling their pain. After a few moments, he rose to his feet and went over to a pair of twin females, no older than five or six standard years, and knelt down beside them and the body of their deceased mother. They looked up at him with eyes full of despondency, small faces marred with immense emotion.

"Do not worry," he told them, placing one hand on each of their backs reassuringly, though he was sure that nothing could save them from the grief, "you will see her again some day, I promise you. But now you must be strong, and take refuge with your stepmothers, for their children have passed as well, and they will want someone to heal their hearts..."

They nodded simultaneously, scrambling up to rush into the waiting arms of one who had overheard the words he had spoken. The childless mother smiled sorrowfully, yet displayed her joy clearer than day. Proceeding to travel around and console all the other afflicted individuals, Qymaen felt that he was doing what he was always meant to do, and this made him quite content indeed.

...

T'lit'co jubilance knew no bounds when he was reunited with his family, as did his surprise when he learned that not one of the enemy inhabitants of the planet had given them any conflict. The other generals were shocked as well, and Aavok was doubtful, but thankful in any case. They could once more take their places on the battlefront.

Rahkah confronted Qymaen after all the family members, living and dead, had been accounted for, greatly impressed.

"You did good kid. For a first timer, I'll say you definitely did better than me. I screwed everything up when I first went to Abbaji. They got to us, and almost all of my men were killed. Of course - hah - I was young, and not as..._experienced_ as I am now."

"_Experienced_?" Qymaen narrowed his eyes. "Is that supposed to be some obscure reference to your life _outside_ of the war?"

"Whatever works, whatever works..." He smirked devilishly, looking very much aware of what he had meant. "Now then, about my promise..."

Qymaen shook his head rapidly. "No." He stated firmly. "No, I do not want to become one of you. I want to remain in solitude and make changed out from under the eyes of the public."

"It's too late for that, kid." Laughed Rahkah. "You shoulda thought of that before you went gallivanting off to rescue those people. Everyone and their mother must know about it by now. You just wait till they start worshiping you. Man, will you be in for a rude awakening."

"I cannot." He said again, more fixed on denying what he knew was the truth than ever before. "I will not."

Rahkah sighed deeply, "Have you ever considered that it might just be fate knocking?"

"Fate? I do not believe in such nonsense. Things will happen when they happen, when the gods will them to, not by chance. You know that as well as I."

"Don't you ever grow tired of contradicting everything I say, Sheelal?"

"Not in the least."

"Hmph. You have a lot of backbone. We could really use you. Truly. It's been awhile since we have accepted someone so openly into our war-brotherhood. The last one was...well, me, and they were really hesitant, seeing as I'm a..." He coughed and ended the sentence early.

"Alcoholic?" Qymaen finished.

"Yeah...you could say that. But what I meant to bring across was the fact that there has been talk about you for years. Dau-Maz is adamant about recruiting you, so is T'lit'co. The other two are for you too, though a little jealous, heh."

"Why do you keep trying to convince me to do something which I have already declined, N'jaere?"

Rahkah looked intensely at him, very serious. His usual crooked smile flattened out, and he said slowly, "You are destined to be a hero. You can't deny it anymore. Your father's legacy has finally caught up with you, kid, and now you have to take hold of it."

"A hero? No. I am not a hero."

"Trust me...you will be. You will be just as sure as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow. You just have to let us help you."

**Short yes, but they are supposed to be, to reiterate. Hope you liked it. Review pretty please!**


	7. Ceremonies

**Bla. It's been forever I know. I don't intend for this to be like my updates for DO, with a few months in between each one, because there is really no excuse. It's like...five-hundred to a thousand words - I could do that in my sleep, so I'm sorry. I shall not make excuses to you. Enjoy this one!**

**Chapter 7 - Ceremonies**

Blood. There was lots of it. Covering the countless steps that lead skyward up to the very top of the great temple. On the people who had gathered. It was everywhere. It would seem to the untrained eye that the whole populace of the planet had gathered for the occasion, but it was only the select tribes that made their residence in the area that were in attendance. Fires were made; dark clouds of smoke filled the area in a dreamlike haze. The five commanders stood on the elevated platform at the steps' end, and all the way down there were the more common folk, arranged by rank in society. The five waited, eyes trained on the ground below, awaiting the arrival of their newest war-brother.

N'jaere viir Rahkah was exceptionally anxious, albeit very contented with the fruits of his labor, but he had his concerns that something would go wrong. It always seemed to.

It had been almost a month since Qymaen had brought General T'lit'co's family back from Abbaji, as had it been nearly longer since Rahkah himself had _finally_ convinced the kid to make a name for himself and join ranks, making the five, into six. Six had been the most there had ever been - six high ranking generals to lead the people into war. Rahkah had great expectations for the young, fledgling leader, and with all of the others' help he would surely become a very powerful ally. They awaited his arrival eagerly, for an initial ceremony, consecrated and established just for the purpose of military affairs, was to begin soon for he and he alone.

When Rahkah's eyes locked on the lone figure approaching the bottom of the stairs, he gestured to the royal guard to his left. The guard knew what to do. They announced that the person of interest had made his appearance, and suddenly all was silent. From the center of the flawlessly straight line the commanders stood in, Voaga Dau-Maz raised his voice. It echoed out over the jungle beyond the clearing the temple sat in, and all who heard were overcome with a deep reverence, as they should have been.

"You see here today, a monumental occurrence will take place," he began. Rahkah kept his gaze centered on his young friend, standing deferentially where he was. "There are five of us. Five who lead our peoples' armies in a war that has gone on since before many of you even saw the light of day for the first time. Five who were chosen, by our divine gods, to make the decisions that have gotten us where we are today - equal with the enemy that for so long defeated and crushed us."

Rahkah dared a glance at Dau-Maz. The other four men were straight in posture, daring not to make one false movement. Their bodies were painted in blood, as his was, their faces masked with the skulls of monstrous creatures of the night. He turned his head back, returning his stare to the man below.

Dau-Maz went on, not missing a beat. "Today, the day the gods have willed, is to be the day there will be _six_!" At this, thunderous applause broke out, anticipated. It diminished when the highest standing general raised his hands for silence. Rahkah adjusted his bearing. "It is now with great honor that I welcome a courageous, vigilant and gallant young one into our ranks. His father has and always will be a dear friend to me, and is no doubt watching from the heavens today with an admiration that mere mortals cannot comprehend." Rahkah took a moment within the pause to remember the one he spoke of, Zalajjh, a name known to the far reaches of the planetary system. He had been a general worthy of esteem.

Dau-Maz's last words before praise that far exceeded the first round broke out were almost posed in a fatherly tone, as if he knew what this meant. "Come then, Qymaen jai Sheelal, and join your brothers of war..."

Rahkah looked proudly down on his friend as he ascended the blood-drenched stairs. Behind Rahkah, was a small structure, darkened within, housing the priest that would complete the ceremony. When Qymaen was finally close enough to look upon the face of his older friend, Rahkah smirked behind his mask, and he knew that it had been detected. The newest commander was greeted with many strong embraces and gracious expressions, though he did not see them. Subsequently, the crowds were quieted once more, and the five others ushered their new charge into the dark, diminutive building.

Rahkah watched from behind Aavok, as the horribly aged priest inside stood to meet Qymaen, then wasted no time. He was instructed to turn, and remove the cloak from his back. On a small fire there sat a branding iron. The end displayed a circular figure with an eight pointed star-like shape above it. Rahkah's arm absentmindedly went to his right shoulder and he ran his fingers over the long-healed scar in that very shape. It was their mark. It always would be. Taking the mark was a sign. A sign that one could never go back. A sign that they would forever be bound to ensuring the safety of their people.

Rahkah's young friend took the searing pain well after a prayer to the gods had been said, naught a flinch being observed by any of the parties present. The priest neither did nor said any more when the ceremony had been fulfilled, retreating back into the darkness.

The five general's let their new brother pass, and as Qymaen went out before the awaiting eyes of the public to receive their devotion, Rahkah looked long and hard at the new, unquestionably painful mark on the kid's shoulder.

And, for some odd reason, all that would come to his mind was a humorous yet curious thought: _I have to call him 'General' now_...

**There ya have it. My original form of "initiation" into the high ranks of Kalee's military people...I certainly hoped you enjoyed it. Could you pretty pretty please leave me a nice review by clicking on the small button below? Thank you and have a nice day!**


	8. A Rather Awkward After Party

**Well hey! Long while since the last update, in comparison to the daily updates I was planning, but oh well! Here it is! Thanks to my awesome reviewer! And the rest of you...please give some feedback! Thank ya kindly.**

**Chapter 8 – A Rather Awkward After Party**

Continuing with the supposed tradition, there was a celebration after the formal ceremony, far more perfunctory. Qymaen, still in a state of awe with his new position, and quite humorously appalled with himself for actually caving under Rahkah's persuasions, stood by himself, wondering how anyone found such a prolonged period of socialization enjoyable. It was pathetic, when he considered it; it was a party for _him_ and he had barely spoken to anyone, remaining in his present location for the better part of the evening. He just had to make it to dawn, when the festivities would be over, and he could retreat back into his temporary home.

His domicile, along with most of the others in the permanent settlement, had been burned to the ground – his few possessions destroyed with it. He, unlike the rest of the people who had to stay out in the elements, was to stay at the military headquarters in a temporary room until a new house could be built. The other general's had their own homes, most as large as temples, going deep underground, to go to, and had no reason to stay in the base of operations. That left Qymaen alone with the guards more days than not. He was welcome in Rahkah's home any day, as it were, but with all of the...odd goings on there, he preferred not to spend time there very often. Along with his multitude of wives, Rahkah also gave shelter to a large harem, who were – less than desirable to view for the broadly pure mind.

His shoulder was bothering him. He ran his dexterous fingers over the place where he had been ritually branded, seeking to soothe the ache of the burnt flesh. As he did this he observed the goings on, and was thankful, above all else, that the whole thing hadn't turned into one large orgy, as Rahkah implied that _his_ own had. Qymaen held back a shudder. Lo and behold, General Rahkah came sauntering through the crowd, a young female on each arm. Qymaen recognized them, and concealed his revulsion. Picking it up nonetheless, Rahkah said something to the two of them, and they dispersed into the mass of people, leaving the older man alone with his friend.

"Arad will not be pleased when he finds out you have been spending time with his two youngest wives, N'jaere." Qymaen stated openly when Rahkah had gotten close enough to hear his voice.

His response was a flippant hand motion. "Welcome to the world of being an important person, kid. It's practically in the contract. Read the fine print."

"And when were you planning on explaining these strange practices to me?"

"I thought you knew." Rahkah said with a shrug and a knowing smirk. "After all the times you visited my house? _Come on_..."

"You neither declared nor demonstrated such things. Your residence is much different than the others. My only assumption was that you were infinitely _different_ in your lifestyle."

A moment of silence. "Well...yes...I _am_."

"Exactly."

Changing subjects rapidly, Rahkah gestured towards the other side of the room. "Have you had anything to drink yet? Truly delicious, it is."

"No. I have not. Must I?"

"Um..._yeah_! Come with me, your moping is depressing the girls I'm gonna hook you up with." Qymaen's arm was grabbed forcefully before he could resist, and he was abruptly dragged through the swarm of party-goers. Eyes watched him as he and Rahkah passed. On the other side of the area, there was a lavish – in comparison to the poverty that had stricken the rest of the planet – bar, not facilitating to those who wanted to sit, but still elaborate. A half-full bottle of a red substance was thrust into his hands by the other general, who watched him expectantly. "Just wine, I swear." Rahkah assured him, and he took a hesitant drink. Subsequently, he was slapped encouragingly on the back, and Rahkah yelled out, "Hey, _everyone_!" Those in hearing range turned to look. "Our new recruit here is drinkin'!"

Qymaen's eyes widened with horror at the unwanted announcement, followed by another, impromptu round of applause. Rahkah laughed at his discomfort, and motioned for a woman who had been watching with a particular interest to approach them. She seemed a bit nervous to be in the direct presence of two military commanders, but still put on a smile. Qymaen eyed here suspiciously, taking another drink, despite himself.

"Do you..." Rahkah began, "...deny that he is not _the _most wonderful specimen that you have ever laid eyes on – besides me of course."

"I - " She started, only to be cut off by the person of her scrutiny.

"I am, _sincerely_ sorry for his behavior. I give you my word that this is all of his own doing, and not that of my own."

Smiling again, this time in a more shy, innocent manner. "That is all right. I was only going to say that is it not my place to make judgments like that."

Forcing a small quirk of his mouth, Qymaen uttered his thanks quietly, and, after handing the bottle to Rahkah, bid them a swift farewell, needing air. He stepped outdoors. The celebration was held in the home of General Aavok, in the main room upon entering, making the world outside easily accessible. Breathing deeply when the fresh air greeted him like an old friend, he attempted to mentally find clarity. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would have to become accustomed to such parties, unenviable though they were. He would have to live the life, not to the extent Rahkah did, but his demeanor would have to change. Life in the public eye would be most difficult, and he had not even accomplished any great victories yet. Women would be brought before him as great in numbers as the insects in the night, and he would have to learn to be guileful in his denial of them if he was to remain in solitude. He planned to stay that way for a long time. The "next generation" meant nothing to him; fatherhood was a crippling situation that he did not want to find himself in.

He backed up and leaned against the side of the dark, rock structure. His eyes strayed to the left, off into the shadows, and that was when he saw them. Three silhouettes, moving deftly in his direction, not stopping even under his gaze. The emerged, and he backpedaled only for an instant. They were prostitutes, that much was clear by their scantly clad bodies, and he scowled deeply at them. This expression only brought sick contentment to their own faces, and they exchanged glances of their own with each other.

"Look who it is..." The nearest one to him hissed. "_Our._.._rising_..._celebrity._" She pronounced her words slowly, temptingly, close enough then to touch him, but refraining as the other two circled around. "Off on his own. _Lonely_."

The two who were farther away laughed. The closest one who had spoken ran a finger down his arm, eyes burning with a fire he did not wish to see. "So _strong._.." She expressed; her sisters moved closer.

Still scowling, he didn't have enough self-control to stop himself when his hand collided violently with her face. She staggered back, clutching the place where he had hit her, blood trickling from the side of her mouth. The other two drew back, startled and scared, before taking off into the night. The injured one joined them soon enough. Qymaen made sure they had truly gone, and then cracked his knuckles, feeling the blow. Guilt would have naturally set over him, but his defense was necessary. There were many deadly individuals of the opposite gender, and they would have won if he hadn't reacted. The notion sickened him. That would make him no better than Rahkah. _He_ would have accepted them, that much was certain.

It was then that he speculated: being inside amongst civil people was much better than being out where the uncultured could get to him. He went back indoors, shaken, but he knew he had to find ways to deal.

Little did he know, things were about to get very rough in the near future, and no amount of mental planning could prepare him for it.

**Reviews? Pretty please? I wanna know what people think of this so far! Thanks!**


	9. A Time for War

**Thanks to my one reviewer...which is why I'm updating. There have been many hits, now how about some feedback to go with them, eh? I've been working on other projects lately; not that I don't want to write this, but I like my other works just as well. So...erm...review? Pweeease? (cute puppy face)**

**Chapter 9 - A Time for War**

A month passed. The prospect of commanding subordinate soldiers was something Qymaen had never experienced before on such a level as he suddenly found himself on. They would obey his every whim with few exceptions. Those who were overconfident enough to believe they did not need a commander were those certain individuals of noble blood whose ancestors had never been lords of war - priests instead, more or less. They walked around with airs of superiority, not placing trust in one so new to the art of leading troops into battle. Nonetheless, the young Kaleesh commander found that his rank provided him with the self-assurance he needed to put them back in their place...most of the time.

Rahkah was ever helpful, incessant though he was in his attempts in pairing his friend with some unknown female. He was seemingly always available for sparring sessions in hand to hand combat, as well as giving Qymaen a few suggestions here and there concerning his weapon techniques. The younger man was efficient with a rifle, that much was certain, but when it came to blades, he was as naive as a small child under the gaze of a large, predatory animal. Rahkah was skilled in the art of swordsmanship, more so than with firearms, and helped where he could, but it appeared, for a time, that Qymaen was, indeed unteachable - reputation aside.

It was at the end of this first month filled with training and nearly everything in between, that a justifiable attack occurred.

A thick mist had settled over the place of battle as the masses of soldiers, armed and ready crept through like shadows. The newer recruits had been left behind, their abilities of concealing themselves soundlessly in the foliage of the jungle doubted. Three of the commanders had been chosen to lead the counterattack. Naturally, Qymaen was elected, his abilities as a leader ready to be put to the test once more.

He kept a wary eye on everything he could see. The mist caused his range of vision to be limited to only about ten or so meters in front if him, but still he watched. The insectile vermin were clever at concealing themselves within the trees of the planet, but had a major flaw in the area of silence. And so, the young commander thought, he would use this to his advantage, his ears on higher alert than his eyes. Rahkah, who had volunteered to watch out for his friend, took Qymaen by the shoulder, causing him to stop very abruptly. He stepped aside and allowed the soldiers behind him to keep moving, following the third general.

"Don't look now, but there are Huk directly above us..." He spoke over Qymaen's shoulder, close enough that his chest touched his friend's back. His voice was so quiet that it barely registered that someone was speaking at all. Qymaen did as he was told. "The little devils are learning to keep quiet it seems," Rahkah added offhandedly. His ability to remain calm even with a fight on the horizon amazed his younger comrade. "I just spotted 'em - I've already told General Aavok," as he said this he took hold of the rifle slung around Qymaen's back, placing it in its owner's capable hands. "Get ready, pal...get ready."

Just as the words were uttered, chaos erupted around them. All at once the new general became one with his weapon, and Rahkah was lost in the mass of skirmishing enemies. He dove down behind a fallen tree beside another gunman, the sounds of the Yam'rii shrieking and the dying cries of his men overwhelming. Ten feet out, one of the insects had trapped a soldier - who struggled violently - between its strong forelegs, and proceeded to behead its victim with its mandibular teeth. Blood was everywhere.

Horrified, Qymaen looked to the other man next to him, who was apparently unfazed at the sight of brutality. He had never seen the Huk kill before, only capture for their own selfish gain. The tree they concealed themselves behind was unexpectedly run through by a giant clawed leg. There was an expression of pain, and then there was much blood near him. The other man with him had placed his arm down under the log in a small hollow, which happened to be exactly where the razor sharp foreleg pierced that which concealed them.

"Gods above!" the pained gunman hissed, unable to move. It was a bad situation - Qymaen knew it happened often, and internally convinced himself that it would be alright. He watched for a split second when the soldier yanked his arm back, cutting through flesh and bone with a resolute expression on his face.

The young commander attacked after seeing this, unfazed by the large creature that stood a good foot above him in stature. He had unsheathed one of the two knives he had been given, his rifle abandoned on the ground beside his injured comrade. His skills with a sword left much to be desired, but knives were something that he was familiar with, and when he had plunged the blade into the leg's carapace, he did not allow it to become dislodged. His free hand sought out a niche in the insect's complex natural armor, the nails on his bony fingers scraping along the rough surface until a secure area was found. All the way the enemy fought him and his body was tossed about horribly.

Qymaen swung his leg up over the sloped back of the Yam'rii, his knife-wielding hand keeping the weapon embedded in its place with a vice grip. Looping his arm around the long, slender neck, he held himself up, at last ripping out the blade and giving it a new home within the throat of the foe. The clicks and hisses subsided into a series of strangled burbling noises - the knife slid down in a quick motion, and all at once the creature made one last attempt to be rid itself of the unwelcome adversary on its back, then it fell. Qymaen removed himself from it as soon as it touched the ground, the close contact unwanted.

He retrieved his knife, swiped it through the grass to minimally clean off the blackish-purple insect blood, sheathed it, and immediately returned to the side of the injured gunman. The man quivered from the pain, trying to stop when he saw his commander kneeling down beside him. The skirmish had died down, though the winner was unclear at the time.

"General...sir..." the soldier said. The ground around him had become drenched with his own blood. "I had...no choice..."

"I know," Qymaen replied, rather distant, "Your sacrifice has not gone amiss, to be sure."

"General, I...I have...a family..."

He understood what the man was saying, "They will be well cared for, soldier, I will make certain of it for you."

The unknown gunman nodded faintly. "I am...I am ready. Do it..."

He was asking to be freed from his pain. It was the right thing to do - he would not make it.

The young commander took up the man's rifle, quietly placing the end of the barrel at a place on the dying soldier that would end it all very quickly.

Qymaen spoke the appropriate words, "May the hereafter honor you in the way your decent will," then he pulled the trigger, and it was finished.

**A/N: Either the next one or two from now is when things will start to pick up for our dear protagonist. Please do review, and I shall try to have another one out soon :D**


	10. Dreams

**A/N: A humungous thanks to my wonderful readers and reviewers. You guys are da bomb *throws gang sign*. Hope you enjoy this one! As promised the story picks up - here is where the AU / modified content begins :)**

**Chapter 10 - Dreams**

After the successful defeat of the small army of enemies, it was a given that a celebration was in order, as was customary. In fact, it was so customary, that Qymaen tried to avoid them as much as he could. Rahkah made him drink - he did not like that. Everyone flocked around him - it made him feel uncomfortable and trapped. The generals around him tried pair him up with what they hoped to be potential partners for their young friend - he _loathed_ that. All in all, he was learning fast how to best react in hostile situations, but social ones were very different. He feared he would never become accustomed to being a personality among his race, and even more so that he would begin to slip into a guise that was not his own when around his own admirers, much like the other commanders so often did. Rahkah seemed the only one who never changed, for he was the same roguish persona all the time whether around enthusiasts or not.

Needless to say, when N'jaere informed him that there would be another big gathering the night after their diminutive conquest, he graciously declined from attending, weaving a lavish web of excuses for his planned absence. In all actuality, he hadn't the slightest idea what to occupy his time with other than sleep...

"Sheelal, tell me you are merely joking with me," Rahkah persisted, following his young friend like a baby animal to its mother. "This was your first victory in leadership of the troops, how could you _not_ be present at the festivities?"

"With ease, it appears, my brother. I will not be going. That is my final word." His expression remained steely, drained of all emotion to mirror what he was feeling at the moment. "I _am_ sorry," though in reality he was not in the least.

Rahkah shrugged his massive shoulders and stretched his arms, seeming to suppress a yawn. "Ah, well, I do not blame you I suppose. I too am worn-out. No sleep for me tonight though, I fear," he smirked. "Anyway with that said I must be on my way. Do have fun bein' lonely, kid."

To Rahkah's back he said, "One of these days you will get horrible diseases and die from your lifestyle..." It was stated out of his own concern for the man who was both a brother and a friend. "I do not want that to happen, you know."

"One of these days you'll become a man and discover that you _need_ women in your life to keep you sensible!" he laughed, rather than being alarmed, "And yeah, I know you don't."

He said no more. Nothing else needed to be said.

...

...

_It is dark. _

_It is night. _

_The sky above him is cloudless and the trees of the jungle are alive with the motion of the night animals that occupy them. There is no wind, not the slightest hint of a breeze. . It is very cold yet at the same time, it is sweltering. His movement causes the humid haze around him to swirl and convulse as if in some odd dance, only to be slowed again by the utter stagnancy of the opposite temperature, intermingled with it._

_He knows not where he goes; his feet carry him everywhere, but it feels like nowhere. There is a purpose, but it is not clear to him as he rushes on through the murky gloom, paying no heed to the predatory creatures that most assuredly lurk about. _

_In the distance he sees a light, and his path is made clear. It illuminates his way, and when he reaches it, a clearing, he stops, looking at the source._

_It is a gargantuan block of stone, bathed in a light that comes down through the night and casts an eerie glow upon everything around it. On it is carved many symbols - many symbols surrounding a picture. The image is unlike anything he has ever seen before, richly detailed, menacing in its own right. A mask, that is what it is. A horrifyingly elongated mask with no clue as to its wearer. _

_"Astonishing, is it not?" a voice comes. There is not a soul near him, still it sounds as if the speaker were by his side. It is a clear, female tone._

_He starts to look this way and that, striving to locate they who spoke. _

_He sees a figure on the other side of the clearing then. He sees her, but not her identity._

"_What does this mean?" he asks, desperation seeping into him. "Tell me what it means!"_

_She who he watches turns and darts into the jungle. He follows instantly, never once looking away for fear of losing sight of his explanation. The terrain becomes rougher, harder to navigate. He scales fallen trees, dodges rocks that ostensibly come into view out of nowhere. _

"_Stop!" he tries, but she does not listen. "Please, I need to know what I am being told!"_

_All at once, the jungle comes to a brusque halt, and he is on a cliff overlooking the sea. There is wind now - much wind. The woman who he was pursuing has stopped, bearing tranquil. He approaches as silently as he can, not wanting to provoke her._

"_I will not harm you..." the words leave his mouth with sincerity. He would never do anything to bring hurt to a woman. It is not in him to do so. _

"_Yes," her lucid voice reaches his ears again, "you will."_

_..._

_..._

The pacing had gone on for hours. Qymaen had slept, and dreamed. It had been a most troubling vision - and he was unsure of how to go about interpreting it. His father had taught him that dreams were to be accepted for what they were: _signs_, and that one should strive to pursue positive ones. He was not certain of how to classify that which he had just experienced.

Clearly he had to find this strange woman and make her tell him what the inscription on the stone in the clearing meant...if such a place even existed. His hands rose to his head and gripped it firmly - how would he _find_ it? There had been no direction in his dark travels. East was west and south was north. It was all so overwhelming.

Then it hit him through all his brooding.

He took up his cloak, strapped his hunting knives around his waist in their sheaths, and swung his loaded rifle onto his back.

He was not a patient man when it came to his own future.

**A/N: And so you see, I have changed some things to fit in with the ultimate story line a bit better. Do not fret, things won't change **_**too**_** drastically. The next chapter I have had written by hand for a looooong time, so it will be up as soon as I type it. In the meantime, review and tell me what you think of this one :D Thank you and good day.**


	11. Unexpected

**A/N: Not much to say, have I. There is more AU content here! I do so love writing such ^_^ Ennnnjoy!**

**Chapter 11 - Unexpected**

The lack of luminance in the jungle at night was unnerving, causing the fledgling commander great unrest. Qymaen walked lightly, one with the shadows and silent as a predator. Howls and screeches from the indigenous animal species echoed through the misty, tree-covered expanse. Still he went onward, confident that he would be able to navigate his way back to the populated area by the first light of morning. First, however, he would have to lose himself, if he was to properly locate the place he had seen in his vision.

He paused for a moment, feelings of wariness running down his spine. He knew that he was being watched - one always was being watched when one was alone in such an environment, whether it be by enemy spies, murderous beasts or rogue, fellow Kaleesh. He slipped the war-mask he had been given over his face, exceedingly guarded.

The words of his father surfaces in his memory. He had been taught the art of the hunt at a young age, and a point that his mentor had stressed from the earliest stage in that teaching had concerned the hunter becoming the hunted. _"Do not lose your sense of reality,"_ he had said, _"for when you do, you will surely die."_ Qymaen continued to tell himself that, even as he stood there.

The snap of a twig sent him whipping fully around to the left...

...just in time to see the bipedal figure, a shadow among many, dart off into the nearly impenetrable undergrowth.

Muttering an oath, he gave chase, shoving through the dense leaves and dodging the rocks and trees that came up out of what seemed to be nowhere. Like in his vision he made certain that he did not once lose sight of the person he chased, but that did not stop them from slipping away - he kept watching, yes, but that meant nothing when they escaped all on their own. Cursing again, he slowed to a stop, enraged. Bracing his hands on his knees he doubled over, remaining alert, but at a loss of breath. His right hand strayed to one of the hunting knives, safely tucked within it's sheath.

Before he could even begin to pull it out, he felt the lethal coldness of a blade pressing against the back of his neck.

"Leave it be," a voice hissed - heavily accented; female, as anticipated, "I want to see your hands..."

He swallowed evenly, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Do not fear, I am not here to cause you harm."

"I doubt that, hunter. I doubt that very much." He felt the tip of the blade trace along his neck, followed by the slow trickle of blood down his back. "Just a moment ago, you following me. Why?" He had barely opened his mouth to answer when a hand wrenched his head back at a painful angle by his hair, "Speak carefully or your life is mine to take."

"I - had a vision..." he began. The metal on his skin lifted slightly. "I was to find someone."

"And you believe that it was I?"

"Perhaps, and perhaps not. I can not be sure."

He was in a bad place. Qymaen's jaw locked tightly, the tense air around the two people almost unbearable. He could not see anything of her in his peripheral vision, nor could he determine exactly how close she stood behind him, for her arm could have been fully extended. He felt breath wash over his back, over the trails of blood the blade had produced.

Finally, she spoke again, "I must tell you, that I too have experienced what you claim."

"_What_?"

"Yes, it is true. I search for the place with the rock, as do you, though it was made clear to me that I am not to linger in your presence."

He gathered his thoughts, then asked calmly, "Will you let me go?" When nothing came of the request, he added, "I mean you no harm - I swear."

A scoff. "As if I fear a boy of your age."

Nonetheless, he was released, and immediately turned around to find that no one was there. A frustrated growl escaped him, his hands dropping to his sides in fists. Behind him - still - there was a small expression of amusement. "_By the gods_, I like to see whom I speak to!"

"You must be faster then," the quip urged him to turn again, this time fueled by a rising amount of irritation. Still he did not catch more then a glimpse of her as she disappeared from sight. It was still impossibly dark - giving the more swift of the two the advantage. Qymaen ceased in his efforts and crossed his arms, posture slackened a bit. He waited. "Come now, you give up already?" The voice was close - a smirk Rahkah would be proud of pulled at his mouth.

In one fast motion he slammed his head back into her, simultaneously locking his ankle around her own to trip her. He rotated his upper body just enough to shove her back down towards the ground, bringing his knee forcefully up into the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Perceptibly shocked, she hunched over on the ground for a time, hands at her head - her face was masked, he could discern that now.

"Shall we talk now?" Qymaen inquired, rolling his neck. He offered his hand and she took it.

As soon as she was to her feet, dignity required, her fist found its mark at the side of his face, another soon following it. He retaliated severely, praying that he would not be condemned for treating a woman thusly.

They did not speak - they fought furiously, for their pride was great and their will to hold onto it was greater.

It all came to a halt when Qymaen pried the mask from her face with his bloodied hands. The unshrouded devilish eyes that stared at him were recognizable - hauntingly so. He remembered the time not so long ago when he went over to the enemy world to save a fellow general's family, and the captive woman he had found there who was of no relation to him; who was an outsider who did not call the mainland her home.

She scrambled to get back the hunting mask, but he tossed it aside, restraining her from trying to retrieve it by holding her shoulder. Slowly, he removed his own facial covering, dropping it as well. They gaped at one another, and she took a step back, recognition for him evident.

She shook her head, disbelieving what she was seeing, and said faintly, "_You_..."

**A/N: I ended up completely rewriting what I had written by hand a long while ago in a notebook, which is why this is a week late. No matter though - reviews make me giddy :3**


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